Chapter 22: Row Forty

The usher got to Chelsea first.

She was a small woman with a clipboard, and she did not raise her voice.

"Ma'am, may I see your ticket?"

Chelsea held it out without looking away from the stage.

"Row forty, seat twelve," the usher said. "That's at the back, ma'am. This is the first row."

"I know where it is. I'm sitting here."

"These seats are reserved for the family of the honoree."

"I am family."

The hall had gone so quiet that I could hear every word from the podium.

Toby had hold of her arm again.

"Chels, I'm begging you."

"Don't touch me." She yanked free and turned on the usher.

"You don't understand. I've known since I was eighteen. It's my seat."

"It's the front row, and it's the green dress, and I'm in it."

She smoothed her skirt with both hands.

It was a cheap green satin. The hem was a little uneven.

Someone near the middle of the hall laughed, softly.

"Then you won't mind showing me the name on the card," the usher said.

She pointed.

A small cream card stood on the first seat of the first row.

I couldn't read it from the stage.

Chelsea bent over it, and her face changed.

She straightened up very slowly and looked at the person in the seat.

Lena sat with her hands in her lap.

She wore a long gown of dark emerald silk.

She had a thin gold chain at her throat, and her short dark hair was pushed behind her ears.

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